


his strange weather

by fullybackfired



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 70 percent pointless fun and 30 percent complete and utter panic, Blood, Gen, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Underage Drinking, an overuse of horror cliches and an improbable amount of american culture references, someone help iwaizumi hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullybackfired/pseuds/fullybackfired
Summary: Something snapped as soon as Hajime let himself accept the unimaginable, the impossible, and it was like he had complete control again – sensation rushed through his limbs, his mind raw with sudden clarity.  Hanamaki hadn’t been lying about there being something evil in the house.  Oikawa hadn’t been lying about something watching them.  The only thing they’d been wrong about was that it was aghost.This was something much, much worse.





	his strange weather

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Shades of Cool" by Lana Del Rey.

 

It took less than thirty minutes into their drive for Hajime to realize he’d made a terrible mistake.  Sure, he probably should have shut the whole thing down as soon as it’d been proposed last month.  Sure, he could technically still fling himself out the window and hitchhike all the way home.  Sure, he really should have expected this.

Being woefully unsurprised didn’t make it any easier when Oikawa kicked the back of his seat for the twelfth time in a row, though.  Or when Hanamaki almost swerved off the road, all of them screaming, because Matsukawa wouldn’t stop tickling his ear with a nasty pigeon feather he’d picked up from a gas station parking lot.  Hajime regrets many decisions in his life, but he can tell this will be at the top of the list for years to come.

Still, the idea of getting away for an entire week just to spend time together had been too appealing to pass up.  Graduation was looming closer and closer, after all.

“Makki, why does your family’s cabin have to be so far away?  My legs are cramping up back here because Iwa-chan refuses to move his seat forward.”

Oikawa punctuated his complaint with a thirteenth kick, which was one kick too many.  Hajime reached down and slid his seat back as far as it would go, pinning Oikawa behind him and making him screech.

“Iwa-chan!  How could you!  These legs need to be in perfect condition if we’re going to go to nationals this year,” he whined into Hajime’s ear, leaning forward and attempting to change the settings himself.  Hajime slapped him away.

“Yeah, Iwaizumi.  The entire fate of the Aoba Johsai volleyball team rests on our esteemed Oikawa-sama’s legs and here you are, crushing them mercilessly alongside our dreams.”

“Shut up, Matsukawa.  You try sitting in front of this bastard,” Hajime growled back, smacking at Oikawa’s wandering hands again and adjusting the headrest so he couldn’t blow on the back of Hajime’s neck.  He wasn’t fast enough to avoid a pinch to the thigh.  Craning his head back, he glared at Matsukawa who wasn’t doing a damn thing to help.

“Dude, do me a favor here.  Switch seats with him.”

Hanamaki glanced frantically into the rearview mirror.  “No way, Issei – don’t you dare.  If Oikawa’s behind me I’ll probably crash.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Hajime finally relented, sliding his seat forward and releasing Oikawa’s left hand from a death grip.  “Just stop kicking, okay?  You’re not actually a toddler, despite all evidence to the contrary.”

“Hmph.  Fine.  But I call shot-gun on the way home, okay Iwa-chan?  Short people belong in the back anyway.”

The yelp Oikawa made when Hajime slammed the seat right back was almost as satisfying as getting a spike through the Iron Wall.  Almost.

 

 

 

Approximately five lifetimes and one splitting headache later, Hanamaki took their final turn down a winding, bumpy road that crawled deep into the woods.  The trees formed a vaulted canopy above them, the late afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and scattering warm light across the windshield.  The surrounding vegetation was dense and beautiful and richly colored.  Hajime was looking forward to jogging here rather than the gym or the sidewalk for a change.

The Hanamaki family cabin was situated in these vast woodlands near the northern boundary of Miyagi prefecture, two and a half excruciating hours away from home and at least one hour away from any other major town.  It was less of a rustic cabin, really, and more of a small vacation house, but it was definitely secluded.  The road came to an abrupt halt in front of it, the wood siding blending into the wilderness almost seamlessly.  There was a small porch in front with a single light. 

Hanamaki’d explained that his family hadn’t visited for several years, not since he was in middle school, and the time showed in the tall, unkept lawn and the cobwebs that hung from the front door.

“Ok, so good news and bad news,” Hanamaki announced as they piled out of the car and through the entryway, swatting at webs and trying to squeeze in all at once.  Hajime got stuck between Oikawa and Matsukawa and made sure to smack each of them with his heavy duffel bag.  “Good news is that we already thought to pack food for the next few days.  Bad news is I’m pretty sure we busted a tire on the way in, so we can’t get to the store even if we wanted to.”

“Are you serious?” Hajime glowered, elbowing Matsukawa in the side so he could set his things down, find the kitchen sink, and test the plumbing.  The water ran clear and cold.

“Eh, yeah.  I forgot how rocky the roads are back here.  I’m pretty sure there’s a spare or two out back, but I’ll have to find the key to the shed.”

“Wait, so we’re stranded _here?_   In the _middle of the woods?_ ” Oikawa wailed, throwing his bag onto the kitchen table and gesturing dramatically out the window.  A squirrel glared back from a nearby branch.

“I said I just have to find the key.  Besides, wasn’t that the point of this vacation?  Stranding ourselves in the middle of the woods?”

“Whatever, Makki.  I’ll make sure you get eaten first if a bear finds us.”

Hajime ignored them both in favor of unpacking the coolers.  At least he’d been the one to go grocery shopping back home; putting any of the others in charge would have resulted in either 1) only alcohol, 2) even more alcohol, or 3) 100% milk bread.  Why was Hajime the only adult here?  What had he done to deserve this?  He opened the fridge to find an abandoned jar of pickled daikon and a half-empty carton of milk that was bulging grotesquely and letting off a truly remarkable odor. 

He’d deal with that later.

“Give us the tour, oh kind and generous host,” Matsukawa yelled from somewhere in the entryway, “Mostly because I’m going to pee myself if I don’t find the bathroom soon.”

“You’ve got an entire forest to pee yourself in, Issei, so don’t even think about it.”

“You’re forcing us to pee in the _woods_?!”

Oikawa spun around from the window, touching the tip of his index finger to Hanamaki’s nose and making the other boy go cross-eyed.  “We’re not animals, Makki.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan.  If anyone’s an animal here it’s definitely you.”

“Come on, kids, don’t fight,” Hanamaki crooned, stepping around Oikawa’s outstretched arm and waltzing toward the room next to the kitchen.  “You’re welcome to pee in the woods all you want, but I guess I can show you around so long as Oikawa keeps his complaints to himself.”

As it turned out, the cabin consisted of just four rooms on the first floor: the living area where they’d entered, the connecting kitchen, an empty bedroom, and a bathroom.  Upstairs was a storage closet and another bedroom, both of which were ignored in favor of all piling into the biggest room downstairs.  There was just enough space to spread four futons out on the floor.  Hajime laid his closest to the window, taking a moment to gaze outside as the others argued about who was going to sleep where.

“—Well I’m not sleeping by you, Mattsun, that’s for sure.  You snore like a chainsaw.”

“As if I’d even want to be next to you, Captain.  You kick.  _Hard_.”

“Yeah, Oikawa – you always sleep by Iwaizumi anyway.  He’s the only one who can put up with you.”

“Hey!  You both love me!  You’d be privileged to sleep next to me!  You—”

Hajime tuned them out and watched the wind rustle the leaves outside, the movement repetitive and relaxing.  When was the last time he’d appreciated nature like this?  Definitely not in the last year or so.  He’d been too preoccupied with school and volleyball and researching university requirements and trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life.  Not that all the time he spent worrying had paid off, of course.  He still didn’t have a clue.  All he knew was that he wasn’t ready for high school to end.  Wasn’t ready to leave this behind quite yet.

“Iwa-chan, tell them I do _not_ drool in my sleep.  _Tell them_.”

“I’m not lying for you, Shittykawa,” Hajime breathed, turning around to face his friends.  He felt far calmer now that they were out of the car.  He’d never been a fan of long car rides, or cramped spaces for that matter.  The close proximity just made Oikawa even more annoying.

“Ha!  Told you so, Oikawa.  You’re disgusting.”

“Take that back.  _Take that_ —”

Hajime turned back to the window.

 

 

 

The sun set just two hours later, oranges and reds melting from the sky as they threw dinner together and tossed a volleyball around outside.  Hajime felt like he was a kid again, chasing bugs with Oikawa and passing a ball back and forth until their forearms ached.  It became more difficult each week to ignore that things weren’t going to be the same anymore.  That they would be going their separate ways.

The weather had been very pleasant during the day and the warmth followed them indoors, the sweat lingering on his skin.  It smelled fresh inside the cabin now that they’d aired it out a bit.  Hajime sighed heavily as he went to the bathroom to rinse off the back of his neck, and when he returned to their shared bedroom it was to the sight of Hanamaki and Matsukawa grinning devilishly over beer bottles at a pouting Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan, they’re trying to convince me that this place is haunted.  I’m not a child, Makki, Mattsun; the only ghosts I’ve ever seen are your pasty chests when we’re in the locker room.”

“Ouch, Oikawa.  My skin is bronzed.  _Bronzed_ , I say.”

“Yeah, mine too.  We’re practically beach gods, aren’t we Takahiro?”

“That’s right we are.”

Hajime heaved himself down to sit on the floor with them, reaching for a beer.  It felt nice and cool against his heated skin.  He tilted his head to face Oikawa.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t freaked out by ghosts as a kid, loser.  Remember that time you wanted to go through a haunted house but were too scared to even step inside?  You were trying to look all cool in front of Yuko-chan, too.  She was way braver than you were.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Iwa-chan.  None at all.”

Hanamaki cackled, setting his beer down to flick off the overhead lights.  He then made his way back to their little circle in the dark and plopped right back onto his futon.  He pulled out a flashlight from god knows where and held it beneath his chin like an over-excited middle-schooler at summer camp, letting the shadows sharpen his cheekbones and hollow out his eyes.

“Are you serious right now?”  Hajime asked, unimpressed.  This couldn’t be good.

“Just you wait, Iwaizumi.  I wasn’t lying to Oikawa – I’ve got a real ghost story for you,” he said in what Hajime guessed was supposed to be a serious voice.  The effect was ruined by whatever gymnastics he was pulling with his eyebrows.

“Now, let me set the stage.  It’s five years ago.  I’ve just turned thirteen, and I’m already coming into the natural charisma and sex appeal that you see here today.” 

Matsukawa choked on his beer and couldn’t stop it from dribbling down his chest.  Hanamaki gracefully ignored him. 

“I’d visited our vacation home several times as a kid, obviously, but this was the first time that we were planning on staying for one whole week.  Just like we are now.  I, of course, didn’t want to go.  Who wants to spend time with their family when they’re thirteen?”  He paused to take a long swig, the flashlight dipping slightly to shine right in Hajime’s eyes.  Of course.

“The first day was just like any other.  We went for a hike, had a picnic, played some cards.  It was pretty close to this time of year actually, so my older brother was able to come with us during his break from university.  He’d always messed around with me; teased me about everything.  Got me all riled up on Halloween every year, forced me to watch scary movies with him, whatever.  I’d grown out of being scared of stuff like that at thirteen, but that night he managed to really get to me.”

Hajime was actually starting to pay attention now.  Hanamaki was an entertaining storyteller when he wanted to be, and Hajime’s second beer was sitting nice and warm in his stomach.  This was feeling more and more like the sleepovers he’d had as a kid.  Well, except for the alcohol, and for the way Oikawa wasn’t on the verge of tears or holding Hajime’s hand or both.

“It wasn’t because he told me one of his classic scary stories or tried to sneak up behind me in the dark,” Hanamaki continued.  “This time, it was _him_ that was scared.  He came up to me that night as I was getting ready for bed.  Had the weirdest look on his face.  Said to me – ‘Hiro, did you see anything funny today in the woods?  Anything unusual?’ in this serious voice.  I said I hadn’t.”

“Is this going anywhere, Makki?” Oikawa interrupted, clearly growing restless.  He was reaching for a second beer with his left hand while drumming the fingers of right against the wood floor.  Hajime leaned over and slapped his hand down before he drove them all crazy.

“Patience, Oikawa, patience.  I’m getting there.  Anyway, my brother had that weird look on his face the next morning, too, except this time it was worse.  He looked exhausted.  When I asked him what was wrong, he said he’d heard strange noises outside all night and couldn’t get to sleep.  I asked him what kind of noises.  He didn’t respond.  That evening, though, when I was out front kicking a ball around he threw open the front door and looked at me with this panicked face.  Told me to get inside that instant, because something was out there.  In the dark.  _Watching me_.”

Hajime glanced to the side.  Oikawa looked reluctantly invested now, although he was clearly trying to put on an indifferent facade.  Matsukawa looked like he was about to fall asleep.

“So I went inside.  And then things got weirder.  My brother was jumpy the whole night, and kept talking about this…thing.  Kept saying that it had followed me inside the cabin.  That it was watching us, waiting for something.  I didn’t believe him, obviously, but he was my big brother and he was so freaked out that it started to kind of rub off on me.  And then, when I got into bed late that night, I saw it.”  Hanamaki paused for dramatic effect, refocusing the flashlight and narrowing his eyes.

“There,” he whispered, flinging his arm out to point into the furthest corner of the room, “up against the wall, _in this very room_ , was a shadow.  Not a normal shadow, though.  It looked…substantial, I guess?  Like there was physically something there, moving, but it didn’t really have a form.  And it sat there.  In that corner, all night.  Watching me.  I couldn’t fall asleep, obviously, and every time I blinked I expected it to disappear or charge at me or something.  But it didn’t.  Not at first.  It just stayed in that corner for hours, until suddenly it spread out to fill the entire room in this dark haze.  Like, it just went _everywhere_.  I could feel it all over my body, and all I could do was close my eyes and hold my breath.  I thought it was going to suffocate me.”

Other than Hanamaki’s voice, the room was quiet.  Hajime could hear crickets outside, but nobody was moving around.  The hair was raised on the back of his neck.  Oikawa was clasping his beer tightly and worrying at his lower lip. 

“But then it disappeared, and I never saw it again,” Hanamaki finished abruptly, grinning.  “The end!” He waved his arms around in some kind of melodramatic finale, throwing the flashlight to the side and gulping down the rest of his beer in the same motion.

Everyone groaned.

“You suck, Makki.  That wasn’t even scary,” Oikawa teased, grinning slowly and stretching out his long legs.  Matsukawa nodded his head in quiet agreement.

“Hey!  That was some top-notch shit!  And totally true, too.  Scared the absolute crap out of me.  Didn’t sleep for a week.  My brother didn’t even talk to me for the rest of the vacation; turned out he’d been awake that whole night too, watching it watch us.  Freaky, man.”

“Ugh.  Iwa-chan’s face is scarier than that story was,” Oikawa complained, spreading out like a starfish and smacking Hajime right on the face with one of his arms.  “Back me up, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime plucked off the offending limb and threw it back.  “Bite me.”

Hanamaki just grinned in response, leaning forward to poke at one of Oikawa’s feet.  “Just you wait, Captain.  You’ll see.  There’s something evil in this house.” 

 

 

 

Two hours, three more beers, and one intense arm wrestling match that somehow morphed into a game of strip poker later, Hajime got up to pee before climbing into his futon for the night.  He was feeling pleasantly drunk.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already dead to the world, face down and still as rocks.  They had exactly two sets of boxers and one sock between them.  Matsukawa, true to Oikawa’s word, was snoring like a chainsaw.

Oikawa himself was still awake, sitting cross-legged in bed with his arms out behind him.  Fully dressed, of course.  The bastard was incredible at poker, even several beers in and on the verge of tipping over. 

As soon as he saw Hajime emerge from the bathroom his contemplative expression shifted into one of faux-concern.  “Iwa-chan, did you even wash your face?  I can see how shiny it is from here.”

Typical.

“Shut up.  My face is fine.”

“Whatever you say, Iwa-chan,” he smiled softly, cheeks red from the alcohol.  He wavered just slightly before curling up into his blankets and watching as Hajime stumbled into bed himself.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’ve got your shirt on backwards, right?”

“…Uh, yeah.”  He definitely hadn’t.

“Iwa-chan?”

“ _Yes_ , Oikawa?”

“…I’m going to miss this.”

Hajime slowly turned to face him.  Oikawa’s face was soft, happy, genuinely sweet; close to sleep.  Hajime smiled back sloppily.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

In a rare display of intoxicated affection, Hajime allowed himself to reach over and grasp at Oikawa’s hand.  Oikawa squeezed it gently, chuckling softly and smiling even wider.  “You’re such a sap sometimes, Iwa-chan.  How embarrassing.”

Hajime closed his eyes and pulled his hand back before he could do anything truly regretful, like tug Oikawa closer or push his stupid hair back from his face or, worse still, cry like a drunk idiot.  Instead, he pulled his blanket tighter around himself and let Oikawa’s soft breathing lull him to sleep.  He really was going to miss this too.

 

 

 

Hajime’s first morning at the cabin was an even mixture between everything he was looking forward to and everything he knew was going to happen whether he liked it or not.  The best part of it all – and one of the main reasons he’d even agreed to come on this trip in the first place – was that he’d woken up to birdsong rather than an alarm clock.  He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up naturally; to not have to get dressed in a still-dark room under the still-dark sky, pulling on shorts and a ratty t-shirt and trudging his way to the gym for early morning practice.  Not that he didn’t like morning practice – there were few better things than playing volleyball before they had to be stuck in class all day. 

Still, though, this was a welcome change.

Cool tones of morning light streamed in through the open window, visible despite Hajime’s closed eyelids.  It just felt so good to lie there, not quite awake yet not still asleep, drifting on the calmness that always seemed to dissipate as soon as he embraced consciousness.  So good, in fact, that it was _almost_ possible to ignore both his slight hangover and the oversized leech that was attached to his back and drooling into his hair.

But not quite.

After allowing himself one more minute of tranquility, Hajime took a deep breath and then rolled onto his back.  (And, by extension, onto Oikawa.)  It took a few seconds for his friend to react before he was squirming beneath Hajime and struggling to escape from his nest of blankets.

“Mmmf.  Mff mff!  _Mmmmmff!_ ”

“Yeah, Oikawa?  Are you trying to say something?  I can’t really hear you,” he teased with a flat voice, staring up at the ceiling.

Oikawa dislodged his face from where it’d gotten jammed against Hajime’s shoulder, gasping in a deep breath next to his ear and flailing wildly.  He’d managed to free his right arm from the tangle of bedding and was now scrabbling at the floor in an attempt to escape.  Hajime put even more of his weight into it so that he wouldn’t get away, using his feet to create some leverage.  He couldn’t stop the grin that crept across his face when Oikawa wheezed unattractively.

“Iwa-chan, whyyyyyy,” he wailed, way too loudly and directly into Hajime’s eardrum.  Hajime should be grateful that they were going to graduate soon and head off in separate directions, or else his hearing would be gone by the time he was thirty.

“Because you were crushing me, that’s why.  I’m just returning the favor.”

“Not fair!  I’m not nearly as heavy as you!”

“Are you calling me fat, Shittykawa?  Huh?  You’re the one that invaded my futon in the first place, you greedy—”

Hajime didn’t get the rest of his insult out because Matsukawa had planted his bony ass on Hajime’s stomach, appearing out of nowhere and punching the air right out of him.  Fuck, he was heavy.  Oikawa yelped at the increased pressure.

“Murder!  This is murder!  My lungs are collapsing!”

Matsukawa peered indifferently at their distraught victim.  “More like a mercy killing.  This is why we came here in the first place, Oikawa, didn’t you know?  To get rid of you once and for all.  They’ll never find the body.”

“You wouldn’t dare.  You’d be lost without me!  Hopeless!”

Hajime nearly leapt out of his skin when Oikawa took a break from whining in order to blow an overly-wet raspberry onto his neck.  “Oi!  Stop that, you bastard!”

“Not until Iwa-chan stops suffocating me with his brute strength,” Oikawa shot back, Hajime twisting desperately to get away.  Matsukawa had laid down fully by this point, keeping him from getting anywhere as Oikawa switched over to pinching at his cheek with his free hand.  He had no idea how the three of them hadn’t toppled over yet.

“Not cool, guys!  No one told me we were enacting stage two of our get-rid-of-Oikawa plan,”  Hanamaki complained, emerging spontaneously from the corner of Hajime’s vision and belly-flopping over all of them.  This time, they did fall over in a heap of limbs.  Oikawa remained trapped beneath them all.

“Makki, if you don’t get your knee out of my bladder in the next two seconds I’m going to pee all over you,” came his muffled voice from somewhere below Hajime’s knees.

“Eugh, seriously?  What’s with you freaks and threatening to pee everywhere?  Get up and go to the bathroom like a normal person.”

“Well I _would_ , if Mattsun and Iwa-chan would just _move_ already and let your treasured Oikawa-san _up_ and—”  Yeah.  Hajime guessed it was an okay morning. 

He hid his smile in the crook of his elbow.

 

 

The rest of the day stretched out long and lazy.  Almost perfect, even.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa broke off after lunch to play video games while Hajime and Oikawa went for a jog through the woods, following narrow, overgrown trails and getting lost a grand total of five times.  Hajime didn’t mind, though, because the air was heady and pleasant and the mossy trees were exceptionally beautiful.  They even managed to find a small waterfall that emptied into an even smaller lake, tiny fish darting back and forth in the clear water as bugs skimmed the surface.  The trek down to the edge was only slightly perilous, and the feel of cool water against his sweaty skin made up for the scraped knees.

Also worth it was when Hajime pushed Oikawa straight in after giving the bottom a quick once-over for sharp rocks.  Oikawa reacted as if he’d been thrown clear off a hundred meter cliff, screeching loudly and splashing around in the shallow water until Hajime waded in to ‘save him’. 

They dried off on large, smooth stones, the sky above them visible through a rare clearing.  The heat of the sun-warmed rock felt delicious against his sore muscles, and chatting idly with Oikawa about all the ways they could sneak into the Shiratorizawa gym and embarrass Ushijima wasn’t so bad either.  (“Ooh!  We could steal his clothes while he’s in the shower and then force him to come get them from us.”  “Why?  Because you want to see him naked?”  “ _Iwa-chan!_   How could you even _say_ something like that?!”)

They managed to find their way back without too much trouble, just in time to make dinner before the sun set and to fight with Hanamaki and Matsukawa about which movie to watch.  Unsurprisingly, the argument turned into a four-way rock paper scissors war that (even more unsurprisingly) Matsukawa won.  The man was a wizard.

And that was how, roughly two hours later, Hajime found himself watching the credits of some awful American romance scroll past as he threw back the dregs of a fourth beer.  He wasn’t really reading the names, though.  He couldn’t focus on anything other than the way Oikawa kept flashing his eyes over to the open bedroom door.  He’d seemed on edge since about half-way through the movie.  Nervous. 

The fifth time Hajime caught him at it, he finally made a point to say something.

“Oikawa?  You alright?”

Oikawa actually jumped, shoulders coming up to his ears as he whipped around to face Hajime.

“What?  Yes.  Absolutely, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime wasn’t convinced.  He narrowed his eyes until Oikawa heaved a sigh, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing.  I just keep thinking there’s something over there.  In the corner of my eye.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!  Something.  It doesn’t matter.”

Still, his eyes drifted back to the darkened room.  Hajime stared with him for a long moment.  He didn’t see anything.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked over from where they’d been re-enacting one the movie’s over-the-top confession scenes, probably confused by their sudden silence.

“What’re you two doing over there?” Matsukawa asked, as if that wasn’t a perfectly valid question that could be aimed at himself and Hanamaki instead.  Their arms were draped around each other in same position the two leads had been in right before they declared their undying love.  On a boat.  In the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Nothing.  Oikawa’s just hallucinating.”

“Hey!  Am not!”

Hanamaki smirked, waggling his eyebrows.  “Huh.  I bet you’re thinkin’ about my story from last night, aren’t you.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened slightly.  “What?!  No.  Definitely not, Makki.  I don’t even remember what that was about.”

“Ha!  I knew it!  I knew it would get to you,” Hanamaki cheered, pumping his fist in the air and untangling himself from Matsukawa.  He leaped off the couch and circled behind Oikawa, leaning over him to stage-whisper, “You saw a shadow, didn’t you.  Hmm?  I told you so.”

Oikawa turned around to stick his tongue out.  “Definitely not.  Don’t be ridiculous.”

Hanamaki just stood up again, grinning smugly.  “Ooookay!  Whatever you say, Oikawa.  I’m sure it won’t keep you up tonight _at all_.”

“You bet it won’t, because I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hajime chuckled, getting up to flick off the TV and collect their empty bottles.  “I knew you were playing it too cool last night.  I didn’t believe for one second that you’d grown out of your thing with ghosts.”

“I do not have ‘a thing’ with ghosts, Iwa-chan.  It’s perfectly normal to be scared of them when you’re a kid,” Oikawa huffed, glaring at Hajime.

“Yeah.  Which you still are, you big baby.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa cackled obnoxiously, slapping a glowering Oikawa on the back.  He reacted as Hajime would have expected, the weirdness melting away as he whined pitifully.  The topic didn’t come up for the rest of the night.

 

 

The next morning Oikawa looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.  His expression was the same way it always was after he watched too many recorded matches or binged Battlestar Galactica and then dragged himself to school – like he was trying to hide something.  He had slight dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slouching uncharacteristically as they ate breakfast. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Hajime asked through a mouthful of mackerel, chopsticks hovering in front of his lips as his eyes narrowed.

“Of course, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replied breezily, sitting up a little taller in his chair.  “I would’ve slept even better if you’d let me share your blankets, though.”

Hajime spluttered.  “It’s practically summertime!  It’s warm, even at night!  You’re just mad because I kicked you out of my futon and refused to go look in the closet, and I quote, ‘to see if someone had broken in and was about to axe-murder us’”.  Oikawa’s hands had been freezing against Hajime’s bare chest, the bastard.  He’d gripped Hajime’s waist tightly while promising over and over that something had made a noise inside the room.

Oikawa pulled a face in response.  He hadn’t touched his food.

“Oho, trouble sleeping, eh?” Hanamaki mocked, leaning toward Oikawa from across the table and wiggling a noodle around precariously.  “I wonder why.”

“I just told you why!  Because Iwa-chan is a selfish sleeper.”

“Bullshit.  You were scaaaaared,” he teased, drawing out the ‘a’ obnoxiously and flicking the noodle around even faster.  Hajime’s face kept getting splattered with little droplets of broth.  “I told you it was a great story!  You didn’t believe me!”

“I’m less scared of that story than you are of talking to girls, Makki.”

“ _Harsh_.”

The table quickly dissolved into chaos when Hanamaki’s flailing managed to launch the noodle clear across the room and onto the wall.  Oikawa didn’t laugh nearly as hard as he should have.  His shoulders had re-slumped. 

Oikawa didn’t look any livelier by dinnertime, either.  He was quiet and distant while they played video games and only teased Hajime once after he’d broken the coffee table with his ass during a wrestling match with Matsukawa.  His eyes kept drifting off aimlessly and his hands plucked at the hem of his shirt.  Hajime knew what Oikawa was like when he was anxious, and this was definitely it. 

Whatever he was worried about had to be pretty bad.

Things came to a head just a few hours later when Oikawa emerged from the bathroom, white as a sheet and almost trembling with rage.  “This isn’t fucking funny, Makki,” he snarled, storming up to the couch and putting his hands on his hips. 

“What isn’t?”

“Whatever dumb prank you’re pulling.  Whatever shit you kept doing last night, and whatever you just tried to pull in there.”

“Wait, _what_?  Oikawa, hold up – what are you even talking about?” Hanamaki fired back, genuinely confused.  His sincere look made Oikawa falter a bit, some complicated expression passing over his face, before he narrowed his eyes again.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Makki.  The noises.  The _mirror_.”

Hanamaki looked lost for another moment before his lips slid into a grin.  “Oho, tell me more, Captain.  Are you trying to tell me that you’ve been hearing things?  Seeing things?  Things, perhaps, like I described in my _very scary_ and _very well-delivered_ story that you keep pretending wasn’t actually good?”

Oikawa huffed, folding his arms over his chest and looking at Hanamaki down the bridge of his nose.  “I knew it.  I knew you were doing something.  We’re not children, Makki, and none of that was funny.”

“Wait, wait!  I didn’t do anything!  I don’t even know what you’re actually talking about!”

“Yes, you do!  I know it was you last night, whispering!  And your dumb face in the mirror!  And I don’t know how you made that shadow in the bedroom, but I know it was you too.”

“Oikawa, Oikawa.  Come on.  First of all, whatever you saw in the mirror?  That doesn’t even make sense!  I was out here the whole time when you were in the bathroom.  And I definitely wasn’t whispering or playing shadow puppets last night, I was waaaay too drunk for that.  Like I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

Oikawa glared at him, eyes cold.  “I don’t believe you.”

“Fine.  Don’t believe me.  Just accept that I’m a great storyteller and it freaked you out and now you think you’re seeing things.”

“I don’t _think_ , Makki, I _know_.  Mattsun?  Iwa-chan?  Are you in on this too?  Trying to get a rise out of your beloved captain?”

Hajime shook his head, eyes a bit wide from trying to follow their argument.  Matsukawa just cocked an eyebrow.  “Definitely not.  Although this _is_ hilarious.”

Oikawa let out a pained noise in response, slamming his eyes shut and visibly trying to calm himself.  “Fine.  Fine.  Great story, Makki, A+.  You’re a genius.  You really got me.”

Hanamaki blinked.  “Yeah.  Clearly.”

Oikawa opened his eyes abruptly, eyes flicking to the side to meet Hajime’s.  “Stop looking at me like I’m crazy, Iwa-chan.  It makes your eyebrows look even bushier than usual.”

Hajime didn’t think he could _not_ look at Oikawa like he was crazy right now, so he avoided making eye contact entirely and grunted out a weak-sounding comeback.  Oikawa just sighed, plopping down next to him and re-focusing his attention to the TV.  “Let’s just…stop talking about it.  Someone choose something to watch.”

Hajime tried very hard not to shoot him worried looks all throughout the shitty sci-fi that Matsukawa picked out.  He didn’t succeed.

Later that night as they were getting ready for bed, shuffling around each other in a sleepy daze as Hanamaki and Matsukawa cleaned up in the kitchen, Hajime saw Oikawa freeze out of the corner of his eye.  When Hajime glanced up at him, half-way into pulling on sweats and fully prepared to ask if he was still having a crisis, it was to the sight of Oikawa gazing off into the corner of the room with wide, panicked eyes, his mouth open in shock.  Oikawa remained in that position for a full five seconds, perfectly still, before backing roughly into the wall behind him.  The noise his head made against the wood was awful.

“Oi!  What’s wrong with you?!” Hajime finally managed, practically tripping over his own feet (and _definitely_ tripping over his sweatpants) until he could fit his hands around each side of Oikawa’s face. 

Oikawa’s eyes were still open, trained somewhere beyond Hajime.  Stock-still.  Unblinking.  Hajime tried to follow his gaze for a moment, turning in a half circle and feeling slightly ridiculous when there was nothing there besides their futons and blankets and a whole lot of dust.  Hajime had half-expected to see Hanamaki or Matsukawa with a sheet over their head, creeping around and mocking Oikawa’s absurd rant from earlier, but they must still be in the kitchen or bathroom doing god knows what.  Probably putting hair dye in Hajime’s shampoo or something equally dumb.

He shook Oikawa gently, pulling his face down to eye-level and calling his name more desperately when there was no response.

“Oikawa, look at me.  Look at me, Oikawa.  _Look at me_.”

Finally, Oikawa did.  His head turned mechanically in Hajime’s hands, his eyes glazed over when they met Hajime’s own.  Unsettling.  A few long seconds passed before his eyelids drooped down in sudden exhaustion, the strange aura dissipating. 

The expression on his face was incredibly serious now, but a different kind of serious than the one he usually wore before a volleyball match.  Something grimmer.

“Iwa-chan.  We need to get out of here.”

Hajime gulped.  He wasn’t kidding around.  “Are you okay?  What the hell was that all about?”

Oikawa’s brows scrunched up a bit – in confusion, in agitation, Hajime couldn’t tell – his gaze drifting off again to the space behind Hajime.  He looked so uncertain, which was something he usually tried to hide (although Hajime had never let him get away with it).  The urge to look behind his shoulder once more was almost overwhelming, but he ignored it.  There was nothing there.  He knew that.  Instead, he concentrated on the bruises underneath Oikawa’s eyes.  On his rapid breathing.

“I…I don’t know.  Nothing.”

“What did you see?  A shadow?  Hanamaki’s definitely not pulling anything, Oikawa, and—”

“—Iwa-chan, really, I was serious about that, he _has_ to be—”

“—I’ll make you sleep in another room if you don’t stop whining.  No – Oikawa, don’t make that face, dammit – you’re really tired.  _I’m_ really tired.  It’s like three in the fucking morning.  I’m sure those two idiot friends of ours are tired too and they’re probably getting ready to do what we should do right now, which is _sleep_.  We’re leaving in a couple of days anyway, right?  This is supposed to be fun.  A vacation.”

“…Yeah.  Yeah, okay Iwa-chan.”

The easy compliance made Hajime twitch, his hands tightening slightly on Oikawa’s cheeks before he realized that he could probably stop touching him now.  He let his arms fall to his sides awkwardly.  His palms made a soft ‘thwap’ sound as they hit his pants.

“Okay.  Come on then, let’s get some sleep.”

Oikawa slowly straightened up to his full height, glancing down at Hajime.  “Okay, Iwa-chan.”

What the fuck.  Hajime shot him a questioning look but Oikawa was clearly off on another planet.  Usually, Hajime would be grateful for the silence.  For the way Oikawa was actually listening to him.

Nothing had ever felt more unnerving.

Not five minutes later, Hanamaki and Matsukawa stumbled into the room and face-planted onto their futons, falling asleep immediately.  Oikawa didn’t spare them a glance.  He was still staring into the corner, even while laying down.  Hajime squirmed in his own futon, unable to get comfortable.  This was weird, right?  This was totally weird.

He purposely twisted away from Oikawa, away from the moonlight that drifted past the curtains and across the room, forcing himself to believe that this was just a case of his friend’s usual dramatics.  Oikawa was overworked.  Tired.  Seeing things.  Taking Hanamaki’s story too seriously.  Dealing with the stress of their upcoming graduation and volleyball matches in the worst way possible, other than practicing jump serves in the gym until his knee gave up.  People see shit when they’re exhausted, right?  They get confused?

After a few uncomfortable minutes in which Hajime tried to relax his muscles one by one and time his breathing until it evened out a little, Hajime felt Oikawa’s hand reach out and curl into the back of his shirt.  His voice came quiet in the dark, oddly timid.  “Iwa-chan?”

Hajime had to swallow thickly before he could answer.  “Yeah?”

“Can I pull my futon closer to yours?”

“…Sure.”

Ok, so that was more like Oikawa.  Except for the part where he was actually asking for permission rather than throwing himself across Hajime’s legs and kicking him in the gut.  Or stealing his pillow.  Or ‘accidently’ jabbing his stupidly long fingers into Hajime’s eyeball, wiggling close and whining about Hajime’s stinky armpits.

Worrisome.  This was becoming more and more worrisome.

Oikawa kept his distance at first.  Hajime could feel the warmth of his body just a few inches away, but it took a sudden creak of the wood floor upstairs before Oikawa plastered himself to Hajime’s back in a manic jumble of limbs.  He elbowed Hajime in the side (ok, that was more like it), his arms reaching around Hajime’s chest to grip at him tightly.  A soft squeak left his mouth and hit the back of Hajime’s neck.  Hajime shuddered a little, whispered, “Calm down, idiot.  This place is old and is gonna make noises like that.”

Oikawa didn’t respond.  Odd.  His hands did tighten on Hajime’s skin, though, his forehead pressed firm against Hajime’s upper back.  His breaths were shaky.

“Oikawa.  It’s okay.  It’s okay, just—”

“Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa’s voice made him screech to a halt mid-sentence, his name whispered heavy and low.

“Iwa-chan, please don’t.  Just – just believe me, okay?  There’s something here.  And, and it _has_ to be him, it _has_ to be Makki making fun of me, except I can see his face and he’s asleep.  He’s asleep, Iwa-chan, and that means that something really _is_ watching us.  In the dark.  Just like in the story.”

Hajime rolled his eyes even though Oikawa couldn’t see him do it, lifting his own hands to grip Oikawa’s tightly.  He tried to make it seem comforting.

“Yeah, sure there is.”

Oikawa heaved out a breathy laugh, sounding pained.  He _really_ needed to stop doing that so close to Hajime’s skin. 

“Hajime.”

He froze.  Oikawa almost never used his first name like that.  He had to wet his lips before he could speak, whispering, “Oikawa, don’t do this right now, okay?  Nobody’s pulling your leg, and there’s nothing here besides trees and squirrels and maybe some spiders.  Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there, snoring obnoxiously.  You’re safe, yeah?”

Hajime could feel Oikawa’s nose pressing into his shoulder blade.

“Okay,” he whispered back, meek.  Oikawa was _never_ meek.

Hajime didn’t have time to dwell on it too much, though, because Oikawa’s body was warm and comforting and they were still kind of holding hands and it felt unreasonably nice to be pressed together like this.  He fell asleep.

 

 

 

Oikawa was clearly trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing the next morning as they went for a jog, but Hajime could tell that something was off.  The idiot kept glancing over at Hajime every time he thought he wasn’t looking, and would whip his head back around to face the trail when Hajime caught him.  The poor acting job was dropped entirely as they trotted up the main drive to the cabin.

“Iwa-chan, why don’t we stay out here today?”

“What – outside?  All day?”

“Why not!” Oikawa replied with fake cheer.  He was keeping an obvious distance from the front door.

“Because it’s hot as hell out here, that’s why.  I want to take a shower.”

Oikawa licked nervously at his lips and glanced toward the cabin.  Hajime made sure to put on a face that showed just how unwilling he was to be subjected to Oikawa’s weird agenda. 

“Hmm, okay.  Fine.  You stink anyway, Iwa-chan.”

“That’s what I’m saying, jerk.”

They stepped through the threshold, Oikawa letting out a shaky breath and hovering right behind him as Hajime bent down to take his shoes off.  His shins kept bumping against Hajime’s lower back.  “Give me some space here, Shittykawa.  You’re gonna knock me over.”

Oikawa listened, backing up into the closed door and looking down at him with an expression that seemed to shift into something different every half-second.  Worry.  Nonchalance.  Boredom.  Fear.  Hajime could feel his brain getting whiplash as he tried to keep up.

“What’s wrong, Oikawa?” he finally asked, once his friend’s face settled on an odd, defensive determination.  He was really getting sick of asking that.

“Iwa-chan.  I want to leave.  Right now.”

“So you’ve been saying,” Hajime growled, standing back up.  “This is bullshit, Oikawa.  Is it still about last night?  About the whole ghost thing?”

Oikawa stood up a bit straighter, lifting his chin and gazing around the room like nothing was totally, completely, 100% bizarre about the situation.  “We just need to leave.  I feel like something bad is going to happen.  Like all of Iwa-chan’s hair falling out.”

Hajime blinked.

“That literally makes no sense.”

Oikawa just huffed in response, stalking away from the door and walking through the kitchen with great purpose.  Hajime had no choice but to follow when he opened the door to their bedroom and pointed at one of the corners.

“Fine.  I know why we need to leave, and you do too.  It’s because something’s been sitting in that corner in the dark, Iwa-chan, and I’m sure now that it’s not Makki.  It’s been here, for the past two nights.  Watching us.”  His tone was light and airy, but his face was still rigid with determination.

“Um…what?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _what’_?  Just like in Makki’s story!  Just like I keep saying, like I said _just_ _last night_ , except nobody will believe me!  Not even the storyteller himself.”

“That’s because there’s nothing _there_ , Oikawa, we already went through this.  Not here, and not when we were watching movies, and not last night.  Hanamaki was a kid when that happened.  _If_ that happened, which I can guarantee it didn’t.’

Oikawa closed his eyes and just stood there for a few seconds, breathing harshly as if he was trying to regain some composure.  “Ok,” he finally said.  “Ok, Iwa-chan.  Let’s both just forget it.  I won’t bring it up again.”  He looked angry.

_What was this_ , Hajime thought, _good cop-bad cop?_   He’d backed off so quickly, just like last night.  What was Oikawa trying to pull here?

“…Ok.  Why don’t we go find out what Hanamaki and Matsukawa have gotten up to, huh?  Maybe we can ask them to look for that key to the shed.  Just so we know we’ll be able to switch out the tire in the next couple of days.” Hajime felt like he needed to give Oikawa something, some kind of reassurance, and this was the only logical thing he could offer.  Oikawa visibly relaxed, giving him a sunny smile.

“Great idea!  Let’s go.”

 

 

 

They didn’t find the key.  Hajime watched as Oikawa put on an indifferent smile.

 

 

 

It was that later that evening when shit really hit the fan.  Oikawa had been doing shockingly well at acting pseudo-normal throughout the afternoon, abiding by the promise he made to drop the subject and going on a long hike with the entire gang.  He looked genuinely happy to be back outside, laughing as Hanamaki tripped over a rock and landed face first in a mud puddle; screeching when Hajime grabbed a clumpy handful and shoved it down the back of his shirt.  He even maintained the good mood when they returned to the cabin and sat down to a late night dinner, the sun having already dipped below the horizon.

It was mid-way through a bite of rice that it happened.  Hajime was sitting across from him and so noticed right away when Oikawa’s eyes blew wide.  His chopsticks clattered to the table top, food falling from his mouth in a way that’d be hilarious if he didn’t look like he was about to faint.  His chair clattered to the floor as he leapt backwards from the table, eyes still wide and staring over Hajime’s head, a silent, aborted scream leaving his mouth as he stumbled roughly into the kitchen counter. 

Hajime had no idea what Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s faces looked like because he was frozen in shock, half-way through a bite of his own.

Without saying a word, Oikawa scooted across the wall and made a break for the living room.  All three of them got up to follow, tripping over themselves and shouting over each other. 

“Oikawa!  Oikawa, what the fuck!”

“Oikawa, where the hell are you going?”

“Oikawa, is the chicken really that bad?!”

Oikawa didn’t listen.  He did come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room though, facing them and reaching his arms out in a clear defensive pose.  In the span of maybe two seconds he was on the ground, backing up on his hands and saying “No, no, no, _no, no, no_ —” before he tipped over completely.  And laid there.  Unmoving.

Hajime rushed up next to him, but some unseen force propelled him backwards until he was crashing into Hanamaki and Matsukawa.  They went down in a jumble of limbs, Hajime near the kitchen’s entryway and Hanamaki and Matsukawa off to the sides.  _What the hell?_ Hajime thought, recovering quickly and making an aborted move toward Oikawa again, but he didn’t get very far before it happened: with a loud crack that made everyone jerk back in surprise, Oikawa’s head lifted up and then slammed back down to the floor, dust flying, whipping sideways so that his eyes met Hajime’s own.  It was all so fast that Hajime had to blink a couple of times before he could actually focus, disturbed dust particles making everything look hazy and dreamlike. 

Black. 

Oikawa’s eyes were completely black, like his pupils had expanded until they swallowed the rest up whole.  Like ink; like soot.  Like something sticky and cold and dangerous.  Like something evil.

Hajime blinked several times, deliberately, but when he looked again nothing had changed.  Oikawa was still staring at him.  His eyes were still black.

Hajime tried to say something – _anything_ to express the confusion he was feeling, the growing terror – but he couldn’t get his lips to move.  He couldn’t even breathe.  All of the hair on his arms and the back of his neck was standing up straight, a prickly sensation skating across his skin and fizzling out through his fingertips.

His tongue felt like a dead thing in his mouth.

“Captain?” came Hanamaki’s voice from somewhere to his right, muffled and weirdly distant, but Oikawa didn’t move.  Didn’t tear his freaky eyes away from Hajime.  Hajime couldn’t bring himself look away either, even though he had a growing suspicion that if he didn’t soon then something terrible was going to happen.  Something awful.  The air around him felt heavy, pushing down on Hajime’s body and wrapping around him like a noose.

“Oikawa, you’re freaking us out, man.  Are you okay?”

How the fuck was Hanamaki still talking?  How could he do anything?  Didn’t he _see_?  Didn’t he understand that something was really, really wrong?  Hajime felt like he was sinking into some terrifying abyss and the lights in the room were flickering now, on and off and on and off and –

Oikawa blinked, and suddenly it was like the last minute had never happened.

“Of course, Makki, why wouldn’t I be?”

_What the fuck_. 

Hajime got to his feet shakily on the second try and, without speaking, took five long strides over to Oikawa so he could press his shoulders to the floor and get a good look at him.  Oikawa squirmed, batting weakly at Hajime and whining.

“Iwa-chan, let me up!  I’m fine!”

“No you’re not,” he countered.  “There’s no way.  What the hell just happened?”

Oikawa cocked his head, staring up at Hajime with his wide, normal-looking eyes.  Brown.  Brown, not black.  Had Hajime been imagining things?

“Well,” and this wouldn’t be good, his voice was far too playful, “I was minding my own business and then Iwa-chan stormed over here and put his gorilla hands all over me.  Don’t ask me why!  I don’t know why Iwa-chan does what he does.”

“What do you _mean_ , minding your own business!  You were ready to bolt out of here!  You were terrified of something!”

“I thought I’d left my phone outside!” Oikawa shouted back, giving him a ‘silly old me’ look when Hajime pointed at the clear outline of a phone in Oikawa’s front pocket.  Hajime cocked an eyebrow, but Oikawa just smiled.

“ _Urgh!_ ”

Hajime straightened up, clutching at his head and squeezing his eyes shut.  His fingers dug into his scalp painfully, but better that then turn around and smash his fist into Oikawa’s dumb face.  This was crazy.  This was so crazy. 

As soon as he felt like he could speak again without screaming, he turned to face Hanamaki and Matsukawa who were giving him identical looks of confusion.

“Tell me what you saw.  _Tell me what you just saw_ ,” he said lowly, glaring back and forth between them.  Hanamaki raised both eyebrows.

“Oikawa ran away from my cooking, rolled around on the floor like a massive weirdo, and then you ‘put your gorilla hands all over him’.  Just like he said.”

“Fuck you.  Matsukawa, you saw his face, right?  Tell me you saw his face.”

“Um, no?  I didn’t?”

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Hajime rubbed at his eyes angrily, his breath coming out way too fast.  He was seeing things.  Seeing things, just like Oikawa.  What was happening?

“Iwa-chan?  What’s wrong?”

He whipped around to give Oikawa an exasperated look, pointing wildly and trying (failing) to get a hold of himself.

“I don’t want to hear a single word from you unless it’s an explanation for whatever just happened.  Your eyes, Oikawa, your _eyes_.”

Oikawa had the audacity to look confused, lifting his hands to his face and smoothing fingers over his eyelids.  “What do you mean?”  Fuck, that sounded genuine.

Hajime let out a breath slowly, harshly, counting backwards from 10.  Everything was fine.  He was tired, they were out in the middle of nowhere.  It was normal to see things.  Hell, Oikawa clearly had been.  Everything was fine.  Oikawa’s eyes were brown.  It had just been a trick of the light or something.

His heart was racing so fast that Hajime was worried it would fly right out of his chest.

“Nothing.  Whatever.  I’m going to bed.”

He stomped out of the room before anyone could say anything else.  Was Hajime living in another dimension?  One where it was normal for people to run away from dinner, fall to the ground, and then spontaneously develop an abnormal eye condition?

After about an hour of tossing and turning in his futon, he heard the other three tip-toe through the door and rustle around as they changed and crawled into bed.  He tried to ignore it when Oikawa settled down nearby, feeling his eyes on him in the darkness.  Everything was fine.  Oikawa was fine.  Hajime was fine.

It took him two hours before he fell asleep.  He swore Oikawa’s eyes were on him the entire time.

 

 

 

As it turned out, absolutely nothing was fine.  In fact, the next day proved to be the weirdest day of Hajime’s life with the runners up being every other one since they’d arrived. 

It all started normal enough – he woke up after a terrible night’s sleep to find that Oikawa had stolen all of his blankets and had also drooled on his pillow.  Nothing unusual there.  He glared at the back of Oikawa’s head, got up, stepped over a snoring Matsukawa, splashed some water on his face, deliberately did not think about what’d happened the night before, and ate a light breakfast.  Went for a run.  Came back, showered. 

It was as he was stepping out of the shower that things began to take a turn for the completely inexplicable. 

First: the lights went out.  Hajime immediately tripped on the bathmat, cursing as he reached out for some kind of purchase but only succeeding in bringing the towel bar down with him.  _You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me_ , he thought, wrapping one of the offending towels around his waist and heaving himself to his feet.

He felt his way over to the wall cautiously.  There wasn’t any light coming out from beyond the bathroom door either, which meant that somehow the lights outside went off as well.  Odd.  He swore he’d heard the others get up and head to the kitchen.

After a few misguided attempts at finding the light switch, he was finally able to flick it on.

Nothing happened.

“I swear to god,” he grumbled under his breath, trying to find the doorknob.  “If one of those idiots blew a fuse I’m going throw them out into the woods.  Leave them to starve.”

Just as he found the doorknob and began to turn it, though, the lights flickered back on.  He lifted his head in shock, only to let out an extremely undignified yelp when he found more than just his own reflection in the mirror.

Oikawa was there behind him, tall and still and staring impassively through the shower steam.

Hajime whipped around, slammed him into the wall and shook his shoulders a few times.  _What the hell did he think he was doing?!_

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!  Oikawa, seriously what the fuck?”

Oikawa just giggled as he looked down at him, the blank look on his face melting into impish playfulness.  “Boo!” he said quietly, grinning wide.

Hajime gripped his nose between his fingers, twisting meanly and feeling gratified when Oikawa squealed.  “Iwa-chan, _nooooo_!”

Hajime let go and stormed out of the room, yelling over his shoulder about how Oikawa was the worst human being in all of Japan and how that hadn’t been even a little bit funny. 

Oikawa just cackled.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that Hajime wondered how Oikawa’d slipped into the bathroom without him noticing.  It wasn’t until lunchtime that Hajime remembered he’d locked the door.

 

 

 

Lunch itself proved to be even weirder than the shower ordeal, somehow.  The thing was, Hajime had grown up with Oikawa.  They spent every weekend at each other’s houses, every summer in each other’s lawns eating popsicles and griping about the heat.  Every school year in the same classrooms.  Every afternoon in the same gym, playing on the same volleyball team.  Winning together.  Losing together.  Crying together, for fuck’s sake.

Basically, Hajime knew everything about Oikawa there was to know.  His favorite toothpaste brand.  The way he folded his socks.  The way he always “forgot” to bring a pencil to class and had to borrow one from some cute girl, making her blush when she handed it over.  The way he looked after losing against Shiratorizawa _again_ , the way he put concealer under his eye bags before a big game, the way he could act genuinely mature sometimes and learn from his mistakes.  He felt like he knew Oikawa pretty damn well, which is why he straight up choked on his tea when Oikawa plopped down across from him and popped a tomato slice into his mouth.

Oikawa hated tomatoes.  _Hated_ them.  Said the only thing they were good for was when he wanted to “pretend like he was squishing Tobio-chan’s genius brain in the palm of his hand”, as if that wasn’t a) really creepy and b) an entirely inaccurate model.

In the end, Hajime couldn’t recover from the choking and spewed the tea all the way across the table.  Predictably, Oikawa squealed and shielded his face and whined about how much of an uncivilized brute Hajime was.  Unpredictably, he continued to eat the tomato like nothing was wrong.

“Oikawa.”

“Yes, Iwa-chan?”

“You hate tomatoes."

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, _you do_.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked back and forth between them as they argued, faces bored.

“I’m pretty sure I know what foods I like and don’t like, Iwa-chan.”

“No, _I’m_ sure what you like and tomatoes are not on that fucking list.”

Oikawa cocked his head to the right, studying Hajime for a long moment before smiling slightly.  “Iwa-chan, you have no idea what I like.  What I want.”

Well.  Ok.  How was he supposed to respond to that?

“Whatever, you massive freak.  Eat the tomatoes that you apparently love so much.”

Oikawa just grinned at him with too many teeth, tomato juice sliding down from the corner of his mouth and dripping onto the table.  His tongue came out to catch it, swiping slowly and deliberately.  His eyes flashed black.

Hajime stumbled up and away from the table, slamming his knee on the wood and practically running to the door.  This couldn’t be happening.  He ignored the way Matsukawa and Hanamaki gave each other incredulous looks over their rice.  Ignored the way he didn’t recognize his best friend anymore. 

Instead, he went for a walk.  A long, long walk that mostly involved him jumping at every little noise and trying to convince himself he wasn’t losing his mind.

Unfortunately, nothing made any more sense after some fresh air.  The thing that made the _least_ sense (other than the trick Oikawa kept playing with his eyes, and the fact that he didn’t rush outside to find Hajime right away and ask what was wrong) was that he had to pause at the doorstep for a full thirty seconds before he could convince himself to actually open the door.

It was like his brain wouldn’t let him.  His fingers hovered there – right at the handle – but they wouldn’t reach down.  A voice in his head told him that he really, really didn’t want to go back inside – that there was something _bad_ there.  Something dangerous. 

An even smaller voice told him that that something was Oikawa.

He ignored it, of course, but it wasn’t easy.  The feeling followed him as he stepped inside and joined Hanamaki on the couch to play video games, Matsukawa and Oikawa sprawled on the floor beneath them and laughing hysterically every time Hanamaki fell off Rainbow Road.  Oikawa looked at him upside down in a way that made Hajime’s stomach churn.

It followed him at dinner, when Oikawa refused to break eye contact as they ate.  When he smiled wide and nasty, teeth sharp, and shrugged it off after Hajime called him out on it.  When Hajime caught Oikawa staring at himself in the mirror later that night, face stony and eyes unreadable as he hummed tunelessly.  When Hajime startled for the billionth time that day, feeling a phantom touch on his shoulder or seeing something out of the corner of his eye or hearing something from another room.  When Oikawa seemed to appear out of nowhere whenever Hajime was alone, watching him with an odd sort of hunger.

Nothing made sense anymore.  He felt like the Oikawa from the past few days, the one who couldn’t stop talking about ghostly presences and weird shadows and a ‘bad feeling’.  Where had that all gone, anyway?  It was like Oikawa had completely ditched his ridiculous fears and hadn’t looked back since.  Somehow, though, he’d passed them on to Hajime.  And the fears didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

 

 

 

Because apparently Hajime’s life was a shitty, low budget horror film now, three hours later he found himself standing alone.  In the woods.  _At midnight_.  He kept tripping over everything – rocks, tree roots, air, and none of it was putting his nerves at ease.  Trust Hanamaki and Matsukawa to think that playing Bloody Murder in the pitch black was a good idea.  Trust himself to be stuck searching for Oikawa, who’d immediately declared himself ‘It’ and then run off into the dark.  Did he already mention they were in the woods?  At midnight?  It felt worth it to repeat.

At first he’d had a pretty good idea where Hanamaki and Matsukawa were, easy to track as they ambled around noisily and alternated back and forth between increasingly ridiculous animal calls, but now he couldn’t hear anything besides the normal sounds of the forest.  Couldn’t see anything but the tall trees and black sky.  How was he supposed to run away if he was the one to find Oikawa?  There’s no way he could do that without running into a log or some shit.  Just then he managed to trip over another root, cursing silently about the merits of playing a glorified mashup of tag and hide-and-seek like a bunch of kids, before – _there_.  Movement.

Just barely, behind a tree that was maybe a few yards away, he thought he could make out one of Oikawa’s abysmally tragic glow-in-the-dark alien socks.  He couldn’t be sure though, so he took a few cautious steps forward until he could peer around the trunk.

Nothing.  Well shit.

Hajime really would have liked to say a half-hearted “Bloody Murder”, refuse to run away, and end the game right then and there.  Now he had to keep looking.  To be honest, though, he was surprised that Oikawa had even lasted this long.  Oikawa usually made a big show of refusing to play when they were younger, whining about getting lost or getting eaten by a bear or getting actually murdered by some rampaging lunatic.  This time he had just smiled knowingly at Hajime.  Hajime refused to let himself think any further about what that meant.

He turned on his heel, slapping at a mosquito and fully prepared to just walk back to the cabin and announce that he was giving up. 

“Guys, this is dumb!  I’m heading back.  Feel free to just stay outside and leave all the hot water to me.”

Silence.  He could feel his own heartbeat skip rapid in his chest.

“Seriously!” he yelled louder, “I’m giving up!  You win, Oikawa!”

Still hearing no response, Hajime took a cautious step forward before freezing up.  Something felt wrong.  His eyes strained in the dark as he tried to use the moonlight to see past the trees and towards the porch light.  Nothing.  Still, he found it hard to breathe.  That had been happening a lot, lately.

_Something’s out there_ , a voice in his head whispered to him.  _Something’s watching you._

He couldn’t help it.  He had to know.

He turned around.

There, standing not two feet behind him, was Oikawa.

In all the horror movies Hajime’d ever watched, in all the scary books he’d ever read, there was always some character that went on about how they felt their blood run cold as soon as they saw the demented serial killer or bloody clown or angry poltergeist or whatever.  _Bullshit_ , he’d thought to himself.  _That sounds like a complete load of crap._   Now, though, Hajime understood. 

Oikawa had always been able to look imposing.  He was tall, broad-shouldered, and kept his chin tipped slightly upwards like he knew he was better than you.  His eyes were sharp and his tongue even sharper.  This wasn’t Oikawa’s usual level of intimidating, though, and he never pulled that shit with Hajime anyway.  This was something else.

Hajime didn’t recognize the flatness of his eyes or the slight flare of his nostrils.  He didn’t recognize his own mounting terror.

He tried to say “Bloody Murder” or to laugh or to just smack Oikawa upside the head, but found that he couldn’t.  He couldn’t move at all.  He felt just like he’d felt the other night when Oikawa’d collapsed to the floor and looked at him with those cold, black eyes.  He couldn’t breathe again, couldn’t tear his eyes away.  It was like watching a car crash.

Oikawa took a step forward, coming up to stand a few inches in front of him.  Looming.  He wasn’t smiling.  When he spoke, his words were soft and sincere.

“You’re supposed to run, Iwa-chan.”

The same voice in Hajime’s head – the one that’d told him not to go back into the cabin, the one that knew something had been watching him in the woods – told him to get away.  Get away _fast_.

So he ran.

He threw himself in the direction of the cabin, pushing past branches and snapping twigs.  His shoes slapped heavily against the wet dirt.  He couldn’t hear Oikawa behind him, couldn’t tell whether he was actually following, but refused to look back over his shoulder.  Something inside him knew that he was.  The reasonable part of his brain told him that this was absurd, that he was running away in legitimate fear from his childhood friend, but that logic was entirely blocked out by the endless stream of _get away, get away, get away_ that flashed behind his eyes and was far too loud to ignore.

Turning sharply to the left, he narrowly avoided hitting a wall of foliage but didn’t escape without pricking his hand on something sharp.  He could see the porch light better now.  He wasn’t far.

Twenty strides and three fumbles later he found himself on the doorstep, struggling to fling the door open and slam it shut behind him.  He still hadn’t actually looked to see if Oikawa was back there.  He didn’t want to.  He really, _really_ didn’t want to.  Instead, he rested his back against the door and sank to the floor, chest heaving.  He put his head between his knees and tried to _breathe_ , tried to _think_ , but he was shaking so badly and his adrenaline was so off the charts that even his thoughts didn’t form cohesive sentences.  What _was_ that?  What had just happened?  It was just Oikawa.  Just stupid, annoying Oikawa.  Just his best friend in the entire world.

Before he could process anything, there was a knock at the door.  He froze.

“Iwa-chan, let me in!  Let me in, Iwa-chaaaan.”

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  He was such an idiot.  It was just Oikawa, right?  There was literally nothing about Oikawa Tooru that should make him feel like he’d rather eat his own foot than open that fucking door.  And yet.

“Iwa-chan, pleeease.  Let me in.”

He stood up, his legs almost collapsing underneath him.

He opened the door.

Hajime had about two seconds to stare into Oikawa’s eyes – his _black eyes_ , holy shit – before he was being turned and slammed roughly into the wall next to them.  Oikawa crowded up against him, bending down to whisper into Hajime’s ear.

“ _I win_.”

Hajime’s body moved on its own and pushed him away as hard as he could.  The action caused Oikawa to stumble back a couple of steps, putting just enough space between them for Hajime to suck in a ragged breath.  When had he stopped breathing again? 

Oikawa’s eyes were brown now.  _Brown_.  Hajime’s stomach rolled.

“Oikawa.  What’s going on.”

Oikawa just stepped forward, slowly and deliberately like he was trying to keep Hajime calm, and cocked his head.  Shadows danced lazily across his face.

“What do you mean, Iwa-chan?”

He reached out an arm to press Hajime back towards the wall, but Hajime slapped him away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?  What do you want from me?”

Oikawa just grinned in response, his smile sudden and vicious.  Hajime couldn’t stop him from swooping in this time.  Their chests pressed together as Oikawa leaned down to whisper, “Iwa-chan, do you know what I really want?  Do you know what I’m going to do?”

Oikawa’s lips brushed his ear as he spoke, the sensation causing Hajime to flinch back violently.  The other man didn’t let him get very far, though, curling long fingers around the side of his neck and pulling him back in close.  Way, _way_ too close.  Hajime couldn’t find the strength to push him away even though he desperately needed to, his arms and legs feeling numb and almost detached.  Animal panic rang loud and acidic in his head.

Oikawa’s next words were spoken softly, sweetly, a sharp contrast to the way they made the bottom of Hajime’s stomach drop all the way to the floor.

“I’m going to _eat you_ _up_.”

This wasn’t Oikawa.  This wasn’t his best friend. 

Something snapped as soon as he let himself accept the unimaginable, the impossible, and it was like he had complete control again – sensation rushed through his limbs, his mind raw with sudden clarity.  Hanamaki hadn’t been lying about there being something evil in the house.  Oikawa hadn’t been lying about something watching them.  The only thing they’d been wrong about was that it was a _ghost_.  This was something much, much worse.

Hajime’s right arm swung around in an instinctive wild haymaker, his wrist making contact with Oikawa’s ear before he found himself flat on his back, gasping for breath, the taller man hovering over him. 

“Such a brute, Hajime, really.  I just want to have a little fun!”

Oikawa – or whatever was _inside_ Oikawa, fuck – dipped down to grab at Hajime’s hair before he could roll away.  He yanked hard and vicious, making a tight fist in the short strands and laughing melodically at Hajime’s surprised yelp before charging forward and literally dragging him across the floor in a move so unexpected that Hajime couldn’t react, his nails scratching uselessly at the wood panels beneath him.  It was only when Hajime managed to catch his feet on the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen, both hands now on Not-Oikawa’s wrists to try and lessen the pain, that he abruptly let go.  Not-Oikawa dove down to straddle Hajime’s hips instead, letting out an absurd little giggle when Hajime reached up to push him off.

“Don’t you want to play with me, Iwa-chan?” he sing-songed, running a fingertip down the bridge of Hajime’s nose.

The sound it made when Hajime’s forehead smashed against Not-Oikawa’s in a headbutt was extremely satisfying.  What wasn’t satisfying was the way Not-Oikawa _didn’t_ reel back in pain like he expected, didn’t roll off Hajime’s chest and put a hand to his bleeding nose.  Instead, he grinned ferociously and let the blood drip down onto Hajime’s face, warmth hitting his lips and sliding down his cheeks.  He tried to turn away, but he couldn’t avoid it slipping into his mouth.

“Now that wasn’t very nice of you, was it.”

Hajime growled again and squirmed harder, tasting iron, struggling until he could finally gain enough leverage to punch Oikawa in the mouth and roll his body off to the side.  He scrambled to his feet and managed to make it all the way into the kitchen and past the table before he was pulled down, a fist hitting him first in the stomach and then clear across the jaw.  The pain was sudden and searing – Oikawa was so fucking strong – but he couldn’t pause to breathe.  Couldn’t let his guard down, not when he was becoming sure that “eat you up” was a lot more literal than he felt comfortable with.

Before he could gather himself and throw another punch, though, Not-Oikawa gripped him roughly by the throat, cackling maniacally as he tossed Hajime to the ground and slammed his head into the floor once, twice, three times before Hajime’s knee managed to land a hit.  Just like last time, Not-Oikawa didn’t stop at the pain.  He just grinned and climbed back up onto Hajime’s chest, hands pressing Hajime’s own to the floor and teeth clamping down sharply on his chin, making him tilt his head back at an angle that cut off some of his air.  There were black spots in his vision, swirling distractingly and making it hard to concentrate on fighting back.  His scalp still stung like a motherfucker and he could feel something sticky at the base of his skull.  Every time Not-Oikawa sank his teeth in deeper the aching spot was pressed against the floorboards.

Not-Oikawa looked down at steadily him from his unnatural position, the absurdity of the pose making Hajime want to laugh despite his own panicked, wet gasping.  His eyes were now completely black – just like they looked yesterday when Hajime thought he was losing his mind and again at lunch today when tomato juice ran down his chin.  Again, just minutes ago, when Hajime opened the door to let him in.  To let _it_ in.  Still, though, they crinkled at the corners in an obvious smile just like Oikawa’s always did.

Hajime wanted to throw up.

After a few seconds of eye contact that he wasn’t sure he was going to live through, Not-Oikawa’s teeth loosened and Hajime cautiously adjusted his head until he could breathe properly, gasping.  Oikawa’s mouth – _its_ mouth – trailed lightly over to Hajime’s cheek as he tried to collect himself, the movements slow and deliberate as it bit gently on the orbital bone beneath Hajime’s right eye.  Hajime couldn’t help the little sound that was punched out of him as the tip of its tongue touched down in a brief swipe.

“Mm, that’s better,” it mumbled near Hajime’s ear.  “You’re holding nice and still for me.  Although it _was_ entertaining to get you all worked up.” 

When Not-Oikawa popped the ‘p’ in ‘up’ Hajime could feel it against his skin.

“What makes you think I’m giving up, asshole?” Hajime growled, his wrists flexing under the hands that were still gripping him firmly.  The tip of Hajime’s left toe touched something long and hard as he kicked out, and he suddenly remembered the knife that he’d taken out to cut the vegetables for dinner.  It must have fallen off the counter at some point during the commotion.  Ok.  Ok, he could do this.

“What the fuck are you and what did you do to the real Oikawa?”

“Oh Iwa-chan, you silly boy.  I _am_ the real Oikawa.  Well, I’m wearing his body, anyway.  Such a nice one too, hmmm?”

Hajime snarled as Not-Oikawa ran the flat of its tongue along Hajime’s bloody cheek and down to the corner of his mouth, making sure to strain his arms dramatically and keep Not-Oikawa’s attention away from the fact that he was maneuvering the knife closer.  His big toe was cramping a bit, but at least that helped him to focus on something other than the blood he could feel dripping off the back of his head and onto the floor.  Other than the warmth of the lips sliding down his neck.

“He’s in here too, you know, don’t worry.  I’m just sharing…for now.  He’s so pretty, though, don’t you think?  Maybe I’ll keep him.”

Hajime snarled wetly, blood and saliva speckling Not-Oikawa’s face as it pulled up from sucking leisurely on Hajime’s throat.  “You get the fuck out of him right now.  _Get out_.”

Not-Oikawa grinned, sitting down fully on Hajime’s hips and throwing its head back in laughter.  When it looked at Hajime again its eyes were back to Oikawa’s usual brown.  It was almost worse that way.

“And why would I want to do that?  I’m plenty comfy right here.  Plus, I get to listen to him scream your name every time I hurt you,” it teased, shaping Oikawa’s lips around the words mockingly.  “It’s the most fun I’ve had in _centuries_.”

With that, Not-Oikawa gripped Hajime’s hair in its right hand and slammed his head down even harder than before.  Hajime’s vision swam, the pain making him yelp and lash out.  Distantly, he felt his foot make contact with something. 

_Fuck_. 

He just kicked the fucking knife away.

He couldn’t see anything, but he heard it slide across the wood floor and land somewhere that was definitely, damningly out of reach.  _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ –

“Hmm, where do you think I should start, Iwa-chan?  Your pretty eyes?  Maybe your lovely _throat_ —”

“Oikawa!  Oikawa, I know you can hear me!”

The thing squealed in delight, pressing close to grin in Hajime’s face.  Their noses touched.

“Ooh, yes – keep going.  This is _fantastic_.”

“Oikawa—” his voice cracked sharply, Not-Oikawa’s hand slamming his head down to the floor again with a wet thud.  He was getting so, so dizzy.

“ _Tooru_ ,” he tried, gasping high and weak.

The hand in his hair loosened abruptly, Not-Oikawa stilling above him.  Hajime opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and found the thing shaking its head wildly, making a low, growly sound that was entirely inhuman.  This was his chance.

“Tooru, please.  Tooru.  Look at me, Tooru.  Look at—”

Not-Oikawa snarled and curled down into him, teeth sinking into his shoulder hard enough draw blood.  Hajime screamed.  Not-Oikawa locked its jaw even tighter, letting out a desperate whine and clawing at Hajime’s face and chest.  The movement was clumsy and uncalculated, not like the deliberate way it’d bit Hajime before; it was clearly fighting against something.  Hopefully, that thing was his best friend.

He tried to push it away, tried to deflect from the nails that scoured hot lines down his jaw and neck, but his vision was still swimming and he barely had enough energy to lift his arms off the ground.  Tears leaked out of his eyes, his right hand coming up to grip futilely at Not-Oikawa’s hair.  How many times could Not-Oikawa smash his head to the floor again before he lost consciousness?  Before he was bludgeoned to death?

Just as he thought he was going to pass out, he heard twin cries from the front of the room that got louder and higher and more obnoxious as they approached. 

“Get off our ace, you fiend!”

“Yeah!  Take that!  And that too!”

Something rained down on top of them, and Hajime made a pathetic attempt to squirm away from it when it stung the cuts on his face.  It was followed swiftly by what Hajime assumed was water, but judging by the pitch of the shriek that Not-Oikawa made it couldn’t possibly be.  The shrieking got louder and louder until suddenly all the weight pinning him down was gone and Hajime was watching Not-Oikawa curl up into the fetal position beside him, covering its face with its hands and whimpering.

“—Ha!  I told you it would work, Makki.”

“Shut up!  And stop throwing the salt like the Salt Bae meme, this is so not the time.”

“Um, excuse you, it’s always the time for—”

Hajime gaped as Not-Oikawa lifted its hands from its face to pin him with a frenzied, furious look, eyes black and lips curled over bloodied teeth, before flipping over to face the ceiling.  Its spine arched inhumanly as it threw its head back in a piercing scream that made Hajime’s breath catch in his throat, a thick, black smoke shooting out of its mouth and straight into the air where it collected into a writhing ball and then flew out one of the open windows.

A beat of silence.  Another.

“Well, fuck.  It got away.”

“Probably for the best.  We weren’t really ready for a proper exorcism, don’t you think?  Your Latin is terrible.”

“Hey!  I mean, yeah, but obviously!  Whose Latin is _good_?  Besides, it’s not like I had time to practice before—”

Hajime could feel a headache coming on, and it wasn’t just from the blunt force trauma.

“Um, guys?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa whipped around to give him identical looks of mild shock.  Too mild for the situation, if you asked Hajime.

“Oh shit, Iwaizumi.  Holy shit.”

He groaned as two pairs of hands helped him sit up, his stomach lurching dangerously and his vision going dark for a brief moment.  He definitely had a concussion.  He shrugged his friends off, turning over to crawl towards Oikawa’s body.  He was still on his back, and Hajime couldn’t see his face.

“Oikawa?  _Oikawa_?”

He managed to grip his chin with one hand, tilting him gently.  Oikawa’s face was a mess, his swollen lower lip red with Hajime’s blood.  His eyes were closed.

“Oikawa?  Can you hear me?” Hajime wheezed, fingers moving lower until he could feel for the pulse at Oikawa’s neck.  It was there, thank fuck.  He still didn’t so much as twitch when Hajime shook him.

“Oikawa—”

Two hands pulled him softly away before he could try again, another set pressing some kind of cloth to the back of Hajime’s head and making him hiss.

“Iwaizumi, it’s okay.  Well, it’s not okay, but he was just possessed.  It’s probably gonna be awhile before he wakes up.”

“Yeah, man.  Besides, you look like one of the extras from The Walking Dead.  Seriously, let’s go and make sure our captain didn’t give you any permanent brain damage.”

“Heh.  Oikawa’d say that there wasn’t any damage left to do.”

Hajime was too exhausted to stop Matsukawa from pulling him to his feet or to punch Hanamaki in his stupid face.  At least the bastard had the decency to look as close to vomiting as Hajime felt.  His head throbbed like it was about to split open, and he was dizzy enough that he knew he should be lying down.  Probably shouldn’t try and fall asleep, though, despite his overwhelming exhaustion.

He let himself drift, let Matsukawa hoist him up and plop him down in the bathroom.  Let him shine a light in his eyes and wave a few fingers in front of his face and do a bunch of doctor-y shit that Hajime wouldn’t have thought he knew to do, except apparently he also knew what to do in case of demonic possession.  So.  Whatever.  He should be thankful, considering they’re out far enough that getting to a hospital in a timely manner was pretty much a non-option.  Even _if_ Hanamaki’s car didn’t have a bum tire.  Which it did.

He tried especially hard not to look at himself in the mirror as Matsukawa wiped the blood off his face, dabbing at the teeth marks on Hajime’s chin.  On his cheek.  On his shoulder.  When he moved on to bandage the back of Hajime’s head, though, he wished he was actually able to see what it looked like.  It _felt_ like a goddamn slasher movie back there.

“How bad,” he whispered.

Matsukawa met his eyes in the mirror and let out a hum.  “Well, there was a lot of blood to wipe away at first.  But head wounds always bleed a ton and it looks like it’s all clotted up now.”

Hajime could feel where it had dripped down the back of his shirt.  Could feel it drying in his hair where Matsukawa hadn’t been able to wash it off.

“He…it was hard.  That thing smashed my head pretty hard.”

“Yeah.”  Matsukawa’s voice stuck in his throat, and he paused to clear it before speaking again.

“Yeah.  It’s really not so bad, though, under all the mess.  The real Oikawa must have been holding it back somehow, or else you’d be…well.  Worse off than you are.  We’ll just have to keep an eye on that concussion.  Try to fix the car tire up tomorrow morning or at least get ahold of somebody back home.”

Eventually, after Matsukawa poured an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide on his wounds without warning and Hajime rallied enough strength to smack him, he was tucked into his futon, covered head to toe in ice packs, and told that one of them would wake him up every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t “like, dead”.  He would be more worried at their playful tone, but the serious look they gave each other as soon as they thought he wasn’t watching was comforting.  At least they were still freaked out too. 

Hajime ignored their frantic whispering and tipped his aching head to the side to look at the floor next to him.  Hanamaki had apparently lugged Oikawa onto his futon already while Hajime was in the bathroom, and his face had been mostly cleaned up.  There was just a single spot of red left in the corner of his mouth.

Fuck, he really wasn’t imagining things.  Oikawa could have fucking killed him. 

Not-Oikawa.  Not-Oikawa could have fucking killed him. 

Or, Hajime supposes, _eaten_ him.  Or do whatever it had been rambling on about.  All that mattered now was that it wasn’t still inside his best friend, wasn’t slamming Hajime’s head into the floor again and again and again.  Just thinking about it made him wince at a new wave of pain.

Eventually, though, the pills Matsukawa gave him kicked in.  He slept.

 

 

 

When Hajime woke on his own it was to bright light streaming in through the windows.  He groaned, trying to sit up but immediately falling back into the futon.  The movement jarred his head.  Memories from the previous night came back quickly, images of black eyes and bloody teeth flashing on an endless loop. 

He turned on his side as slowly as he could, facing Oikawa.  His friend was still out cold and slightly bloody, although now there was a ring of salt around him too.  And around Hajime.  And on each windowsill.  And around Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who had pushed their futons together and were whispering at an uncharacteristically rapid pace.  Where had they even got all that salt, anyway?  Hajime swore he’d only seen a single saltshaker in the entire cabin before last night, sitting inexplicably on the coffee table with a couple of bananas.

“Morning,” he rasped, attempting to get their attention.  They didn’t hear him.

“ _Morning_ ,” he tried again, putting as much bite into it as he could, and this time whey whipped around to face him.  They looked like they hadn’t slept at all.

“Ah, Iwaizumi!  Our brave, amazing, talented ace.  Good morning!  How are you doing, you gorgeous—”

“I feel like shit.”

They both flinched.

“Of course you do,” Hanamaki frowned, stepping gingerly over the salt circle so he could press a palm to Hajime’s forehead.  “You look it too.”  Hajime resisted the urge to put him in a headlock.  He told himself it was because he was a mature adult and not because he didn’t think he could sit up quite yet.

“How is he?”

“Who, Oikawa?”

“Obviously.”

“Um…” Hanamaki glanced over to their captain.  “Okay.  At least we think he’s okay.  He hasn’t exactly woken up yet.”

Hajime brought his fists to his eyes, pressing firmly to try and alleviate the panic that was swelling up inside.  “What happened last night?”

“Well,” Matsukawa drawled, stepping up beside them and crouching down.  “Clearly our boy here was possessed by some kind of demonic being and chose you as his pincushion.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes.  “…Clearly.  How did you guys know what to do, anyway?  I didn’t think either of you saw anything and you definitely didn’t believe me when I told you there was something wrong with him.”

“It was obvious, really,” said Hanamaki.  “I didn’t want to think about it again, to actually consider that what I saw when I was thirteen was real, but everything he said matched up so closely to what happened to me and my brother.  Plus, you know.  The tomatoes.  The creepy staring.  The way he didn’t mind when I used his toothbrush this morning.” 

Hajime spluttered, looking at him incredulously.  “How the hell does any of that imply demonic possession?!  And what sick bastard uses someone else’s toothbrush?!”

“First of all, it was an _experiment_.  A test.  And second, the only alternative was that you two ditched us in the woods to do some kind of freaky Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay—” Hajime spluttered again, face heating up as Hanamaki plowed on ahead, “—that involved a _loooooot_ of blood.  I mean, you’re an aggressive guy and everything but that was…scary.  It was way scary.”

No shit.

“Yeah,” Matsukawa added, ever helpful.  “But I mean, who doesn’t come prepared for demonic possession these days?  Gotta be ready anytime, anywhere.  Clear cut case, if you ask me.  Very straightforward.”

Hajime gave him a look that hopefully conveyed just how absurd that sounded and how very not straightforward this whole thing was.  Matsukawa just smiled down at him.

After a few minutes more of interrogation they both went down to make breakfast, leaving Hajime alone with his thoughts.  He couldn’t help himself from crawling over to Oikawa to get a closer look.  He was mindful to leave the salt ring intact.

Oikawa’s face was twisted up in his sleep, a wrinkle in his brow and a frown on his lips.  Hajime smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone and watched his eyes move behind closed lids.  He wanted very badly for Oikawa to wake up and look at him, prove that his eyes were brown.  Prove that he wasn’t going to attack him again.  Prove to him that he was Hajime’s best friend.  Mercifully, he got his wish.

Oikawa let out a soft groan, pushing his face into Hajime’s hand.  His lashes fluttered briefly before he finally blinked his eyes open – his brown, brown eyes – and smiled dopily at Hajime.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Hi, Oikawa.”

Suddenly, Oikawa’s eyes blew wide and he scrambled backwards, shuffling all the way past the salt and up against the wall.  It was a good thing that he could cross the ring safely, right?  Right.

“Hey, where are you going, jerk?  Get back here.”

Oikawa whipped his head back and forth, chest heaving as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“Iwa-chan,” he gasped roughly, “ _Iwa-chan_.”

“Glad we’ve established my name.  Now back come over here, Shittykawa, I’m not feeling up to standing yet.”

Oikawa just whimpered at that, covering his face with his hands and beginning to hyperventilate.  Dammit.

“Breathe slowly, Oikawa, come on.  In, out.  In, out.”  He tried to keep his voice smooth and calm, but Oikawa’s fear was rubbing off on him and it was difficult to not flash back to hard floors and sharp teeth and dark eyes.

Eventually, Oikawa’s panic melted into shuddery sobs that wracked his entire body and made Hajime’s gut squeeze painfully.  This was not going the way he wanted it to.  “Tooru.  Come here.”

Oikawa gazed up at him hesitantly, tears still falling steadily down his cheeks.  He looked absolutely wrecked.

“No.  I can’t.  I can’t, Iwa-chan, I—” he made a high note in his throat, pulled at his hair.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, idiot.  C’mon.  Come here.”

Thankfully Oikawa listened, standing shakily and walking over to Hajime’s futon.  He paused to look down at the salt circle around Hajime, glancing at him warily as he stepped over it.  Nothing unusual happened.  When Hajime urged him forward, he fell to his knees beside him shuffled closer, sniffling pathetically.  Hajime reached out, resting a hand on Oikawa’s knee. 

Oikawa sucked in a breath before tentatively covering it with his own.  They were both trembling.

After a long moment of silence, he lifted his other hand to Hajime’s face, fingertips tracing under his eye and down across his jaw.  Another long pause, this time at the marks on his chin.  His hand slipped further to pull Hajime’s shirt aside.  They both let out a harsh breath.  Oikawa’s eyes welled with new tears as he curled his hand into the shirt, ducking his face down to Hajime’s chest and gasping into it, “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_ —”

“Oikawa, stop.  It wasn’t you, okay?  I know it wasn’t you.  I didn’t believe you – didn’t believe that there was something here, something watching you – and I should have.  I should have.  Besides, it’s freaky to hear you apologize for something so you better knock it off.”

Oikawa shook his head back and forth, the movement scrunching up Hajime’s shirt.  “Iwa-chan, I could have really hurt you.  I _did_ really hurt you.  What if I…what if I’d _killed_ you, Hajime?”

“It wasn’t you.  It wasn’t.  It was some evil motherfucker that decided it wanted to camp out in your body.”

Hajime felt it when Oikawa huffed out a wet chuckle.  “Well, I guess I can’t blame it.”  Hajime smacked the side of his head gently, relieved.  “But Iwa-chan, it was awful.  I could see everything.  I could feel everything.  I couldn’t – couldn’t stop it when it hurt you.  Your _head_ , Hajime, your head.”  He reached up slowly to cup Hajime’s neck, gentle fingers passing over the bandages that wrapped around the base of his skull. 

Hajime squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to avoid crying.  This was already embarrassing enough as it was.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.  It’s okay now.  You’re okay now.”

Oikawa’s lip just quivered harder before he collapsed into another round of sobs, flopping fully along Hajime’s side and curling up into him.  He was way too tall and heavy to do it in a way that didn’t affect one of Hajime’s bruises, and he kept letting out these desperate noises that made Hajime’s heart ache in his chest.  He did the best he could to hold him back, though, wincing when his neck twinged.  They were going to be okay.  Everything was going to be okay.

Just as he was about to maneuver Oikawa off and insist he clean up a bit, maybe try to get some more sleep himself while Oikawa took a shower, Hanamaki and Matsukawa stormed into the room.  They yelled in tandem just like the night before, thundering up next to the futon before tossing an entire jug of something onto them.  Hajime spluttered, struggling to maintain his grip on a very confused Oikawa as he blinked the mysterious liquid out of his eyes.

“Not again, you evil son of a bitch!  Issei, pull up that Supernatural wiki page!  We need to actually do the exorcism this time!” 

“Hold on, I’ve got literally no signal here, just let me—”

“Oi!” Hajime shouted, clutching Oikawa closer and trying to sit up at the same time.  It didn’t exactly work.  “It’s Oikawa.  It’s just Oikawa.”

They both froze mid-action, looking down skeptically.

“Are you sure, Iwaizumi?  Positive?  Because it looks like he’s trying to maul you again and—”

Hanamaki tapered off when Oikawa lifted his face up from Hajime’s chest, eyes puffy and obviously frightened.  His nose was dripping steadily.

“Oh.  Hey, Oikawa.  Nice to have you back.”

“What the hell did you assholes throw on us?  Water?” Hajime questioned, trying to wipe at his face without jostling Oikawa.

“ _Holy_ water, Iwaizumi.  What else?”

Hajime gave them the most incredulous look he could muster.  Oikawa returned to hiding his face in Hajime’s shirt.  “And where did you get that?”

Matsukawa grinned.  “Do you remember last year’s party at my house?  After Interhigh?  When we got absolutely plastered and dared Yahaba to marry my mom’s houseplant?”

“…How could I forget.”

“Well, I needed to do it right, obviously.  So I took a 10 minute online course and got formally ordained while Oikawa made a scene about not having a proper wedding cake.”  Oh no.  Matsukawa took a step forward, putting his palms together in front of him and bowing slightly.  “Just call me Father Issei.”

Hajime blinked.

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

 

 

 

A few hours later, Hajime found himself horizontal in the backseat of Hanamaki’s car, once again covered in ice packs.  His feet were propped up on Oikawa’s lap because he’d refused to put his head there instead.  At least this way he didn’t have to look directly up into his friend’s pained face.  Hajime could tell that Oikawa was glancing over at him every few seconds, but he kept his eyes firmly closed and ignored the way that Oikawa gripped his ankles tightly.  Like he was afraid Hajime was going to bolt.

Eyes still closed, he cleared his throat.  “Oikawa.  Relax.”

The hands on Hajime’s ankles squeezed harder.  “How am I supposed to relax?!  I was _possessed_ , Iwa-chan!  I _licked your face_!”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?  Really?”

“Well it’s better than focusing on how I almost killed you, don’t you think?”

Hajime sighed.  “ _You_ didn’t do anything.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa bounded into the front seats before Oikawa could say anything in response, which was probably for the best.  Hajime was so, so tired, and he didn’t know what to say to make anything better.

“We changed the tire!  You’re never going to guess where I found the key to the shed, either,” Hanamaki grinned, turning around to face them.  “It was on my keychain _the whole time_.  I totally forgot that my dad gave it to me before we left.”

Hajime’s eyes shot open.  “I’m going to murder you.”

“Woah there, Iwaizumi!  You can barely sit up, let alone hurt your poor, caring friend!  I _am_ the one who saved you from an actual demon, you know.  You should be grateful.”

“Oi!” Matsukawa butted in.  “I was there too!”

Hajime made the mistake of glancing over at Oikawa, who looked like he was about to start crying again.  “Oikawa, don’t you dare,” he growled, narrowing his eyes further when Oikawa looked at him with a trembling lower lip.  “Make yourself useful and do the navigation, yeah?”

“Okay,” he agreed, wiping at his nose and sitting up straighter in his seat.  “Okay.  I know you’re reliant on my superb navigational skills anyway, Iwa-chan, you don’t need to be rude.”

“Tch.”

Oikawa did in fact make himself useful, and the ride back home went relatively smoothly.  They didn’t get lost, there wasn’t any fighting, and only once did Hanamaki hit the brakes hard enough that Hajime jarred his head.  It didn’t hurt too bad – Hajime was too drugged up on painkillers for that – but Oikawa fussed anyway until Hajime teased him about being the mom for once.  They even managed to escort Hajime into the hospital without too much difficulty, once they decided that it would be best for him to hide the teeth marks on his shoulder and say that he’d taken a nasty fall while hiking instead.

The nurse tisked at him when Hajime relayed the story, cradling his head gently while lecturing him about proper safety precautions and what type of hiking boot Hajime should have been wearing so that his ankles were properly supported.  She paused at the marks on his chin, which Hajime awkwardly passed off as being scratches from the fall, but didn’t question him.  _Thank fucking god_ , Hajime thought as she tested his vision, what would he have said if she’d pressured him?  ‘Oh, yeah, that’s where my demonically possessed best friend gnawed on me?  No big deal?’ 

Yeah.  Because that didn’t sound fucking crazy or anything.  He didn’t want her to think he hit his head any harder than he actually did.

The hospital had contacted his parents while he was being treated, of course, and they blustered into the room right as Hajime was being cleared to leave. 

“Hajime, why didn’t you call?!” his mom yelled, eyes welling with tears as she patted his hair and smoothed thumbs across his cheeks.

“Sorry, mom,” he sighed, putting up with the poking and prodding.  “I didn’t want to worry you.  It really wasn’t that bad of a fall, I promise.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t that bad!  Look at my poor baby!” she cried, spinning around abruptly and advancing on the nurse.  “Is he actually okay?  How’s his head?  Is his brain damaged?  Can he still see?  Does he have memory loss?  Is he—”

“Hajime-kun will be just fine,” the nurse interrupted, gently.  “He does have a concussion, though, so absolutely no sports or anything too strenuous for the next couple of weeks.”  His mother let out a shaky breath.  “He should keep social activity to a minimum too.”

Well, fuck.  Hajime knew _that_ wasn’t going to go over well.

Right on cue, Oikawa burst into the room with Hanamaki and Matsukawa hot on his tail. 

“Oi, you losers aren’t supposed to be here,” Hajime growled.  “What did you even do?  Sneak all the way in?”

Oikawa ignored him in favor of smiling sweetly at the nurse, clasping her hands in his own and promising that they were very close friends of the family, that they really wouldn’t be that long, and my, wasn’t she looking lovely today?  The nurse grew steadily pink as he went on, and by the end she was clearing her throat uncomfortably and assuring him that they could stay for just a few minutes.  Oikawa gave her his most charming grin.  Hajime snorted.

“What’s the verdict, Iwa-chan?” he said after greeting Hajime’s parents.  His mom had made a big deal of fussing over him just like she’d done with Hajime, stroking through his hair and pinching at his cheeks and asking whether he was _absolutely sure_ he hadn’t hurt himself either.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa whined about how no one cared to ask them if they were okay too, and like the incredible woman she was, Hajime’s mom ignored them. 

“I’m fine,” Hajime said pointedly.  “I just have to rest.  That means no volleyball, and that _definitely_ means no harassing me, Shittykawa.”

“When do I ever harass you?” Oikawa gasped, putting his hand to his chest and widening his eyes obnoxiously.

“Every goddamn day.”

“Hajime, watch your language,” his father said, giving him a stern look over the top of Oikawa’s head.

Eventually, after Oikawa did his own ‘check-up’ that consisted mostly of him pretending to use a stethoscope and then poking at all Hajime’s injuries, they shuffled out of the hospital and made their way home.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa split off in the direction of their own neighborhood after giving Hajime firm handshakes and dramatic, straight-faced speeches about how brave and strong he was, while Oikawa joined Hajime’s family’s car since he lived just across the street. 

Oikawa acted like his usual self the entire way home.  He chatted pleasantly with Hajime’s parents and teased Hajime about being a clutz, laughing easily when Hajime’s dad recounted the last time Hajime’d tripped while on a walk in the woods.  It was almost surreal to think that he’d been sobbing into Hajime’s chest just that morning.  (Or slamming Hajime’s head into the floor just last night.) 

He put up little resistance when Hajime’s parents assured him that he could visit later, once their son had gotten some sleep, but did ask whether he could “escort Iwa-chan up to his room so that he didn’t trip down the steps or something.”  And, because Hajime’s parents were no-good traitors, they allowed it.

 

 

 

Immediately after entering his bedroom, Hajime collapsed on the bed.  He was so stupidly tired, and the additional drugs they’d given him at the hospital weren’t exactly helping him to stay awake.  The world was feeling heavy and slow; his mind was starting to drift.  He barely even noticed with Oikawa pulled up blankets around him, tucking him in like a small child.  He _did_ notice when Oikawa shoved a pillow under his head, though, and then made Hajime roll onto his back so that his neck was properly supported.

“What are you playing at, Oikawa?  You’re never this nice.”

“But Iwa-chan, I’m always nice!  You’re the meanie that refuses to accept my generosity.”

Hajime scoffed lightly, closing his eyes against the harsh light coming in through the window.  Oikawa must have noticed, because a moment later the curtains were closing and Hajime’s world softened.  The effect was so immediately relaxing that he didn’t even complain when Oikawa slipped in to Hajime’s bed alongside him.  Hajime didn’t open his eyes, but he could tell that he’d curled up facing him.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hm.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Shut up, Oikawa.  I know.  Just stop saying it, it’s still weird to hear you apologize.”

Oikawa didn’t respond, but he did reach out a hand to curl around Hajime’s wrist.  Hajime couldn’t help it – he jerked away a little.  Oikawa sucked in a quick breath.

“ _See_?  See, Iwa-chan?  You’re scared of me.  _You’re scared of me_ ,” he said, desperation coloring his voice.

Hajime felt anger bubble up inside him from somewhere unknown, curling around his throat and making his eyes whip open.  He turned his head carefully to face Oikawa, who was looking at him with an expression so pathetic that Hajime wanted to punch him.

“Idiot.  _Idiot_.  How could I ever be scared of you?  Do you really think that something like this would change the way I see you?  You’re still a 6-foot, whiny toddler who’s unreasonably good at volleyball.  You’re still Oikawa.  You’re still my best friend.”

Oikawa stared back at him, hard, eyes narrowed as they searched his face.  He reached out with the hand that wasn’t curled up beneath his head, smoothing it down Hajime’s neck in a strangely intimate motion before resting it on his shoulder.  Right over the bitemark that Hajime had hid from the nurse.  He pressed there – just a touch too hard – maintaining eye contact.  Hajime let him.

Eventually, Oikawa must have found what he was looking for.  He removed the hand on Hajime’s shoulder, leaning in instead until his forehead rested against Hajime’s own.  He was so warm and so close and his eyes were so, so brown that it made Hajime freeze up.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, but it was in a different way from all those times before.  Somehow it wasn’t any less painful.  Finally, though, Oikawa pulled away.  He sat up in bed, reaching out one last time to grasp Hajime’s wrist in a gentle hold.  This time Hajime didn’t flinch.

“Get some rest, Iwa-chan.  You’ll need it if you don’t want to scare away all the girls at school.  You look even uglier than usual.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.  I ruined our vacation.”

Hajime couldn’t help snorting with laughter, grinning even harder when the corners of Oikawa’s eyes crinkled in response.  “You really did, you bastard.  I guess we’ll just have to go on another one after graduation.”

Oikawa huffed a little, smiling at him gently.  His expression was the most relaxed Hajime’d seen it since that morning.  “Hm.  I guess so, Iwa-chan.”  Hajime twisted slightly so that he could squeeze his hand.

_Yeah_ , he thought.  _Everything was going to be okay_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so, so much fun to write and hopefully at least half as fun to read!! It grew into quite the self-indulgent monster, and I'm honestly surprised that I managed to put it out before Halloween. Also, please don't ask me when this takes place canonically - I have absolutely no idea ;)


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